


1. Those Pesky Kids!

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Friendship, Holiday, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-04
Updated: 2008-01-21
Packaged: 2019-02-02 08:36:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12723222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Jack POV/Humour. Jack takes the kids across the pond!





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** *WINNER OF 2009 BLUE MOON FAN FICTION AWARD FOR HUMOUR*

“Thank you, Sir. You won’t regret it. I assure you, we’ll all act with the utmost respect and maturity and..”

“Jack.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“From any other man, I may have believed that, but you…”

He’s actually smiling. Hammond is grinning like a fiend. 

“Just get out of my office.”

“Yes Sir!”

I salute the General with every ounce of respect I can muster. The man deserves it. He’s just signed off on a whole two week vacation for SG-1. Not only that, the man has agreed to my phenomenal idea of making it a group affair. After my well rehearsed and highly moving speech that Carter and Daniel never actually go anywhere when we get leave, and do, in fact, carry on working to the detriment of their own well-being, the big man agreed in a heartbeat. The big fat tear rolling down my cheek may have been overkill, but it worked didn’t it?

We’re gonna go on the perfect vacation. I’m taking the kids around England, in an RV. No naquada ridden doohikeys for Carter to play with, no enemies for Teal’c to damage, and plenty of goa’uld free history for Daniel to explore.

Now to find the kids and give them the good news. Oh, I know they’ll argue. Carter will moan about some experiment, Teal’c will growl out a threat to disembowel me, slowly, and Daniel will just pout. But, like any wayward child, I’ll simply ignore their pleas, disavow the unwanted behaviour, and drag them kicking and screaming out the door. I know what’s best for them. They’ll learn that eventually.

And we’re walking! 

I know they’ll all be holed up in Daniel’s office. Carter has some reactor in her's that’s taking up every available space, and Teal’c doesn’t have an office.

Ah, the elevator. Oh, that's just swell. Now I’m in a tightly enclosed space with some spotty adolescent Private staring at me. Yeah, I’m smiling, Bucko. Don’t get too used to it. 

There's Daniel’s door. Hell, now I’m whistling for Christ’s sake. Oh, this vacation is gonna be good.

Now for my grand entran… 

Well, crap!

What am I faced with in Daniel’s myriad of mysteries? Three strapping young SG-1 members, busy researching the latest planet? Nope. Three happy, smiling faces, ready for their next adventure? Definitely nope. All I get is a rather depressed looking archaeologist, a Major with a serious case of the scowls, and a Jaffa who looks like he needs to maim someone.

Okay, here goes. Be brave. “Hey, what’s wrong with you guys?” 

“Everything, Jack.” 

Okaay, Daniel’s obviously not a happy camper. He has his elbows resting on the table and his head in his hand. He looks thoroughly miserable.

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“Oh.” 

Well, what else can I say? Carter doesn’t look any better, and where was my salute, Major? Does it not say ‘Colonel’ anywhere on my uniform? 

Maybe now’s the time to go in for the kill. 

“Well, I have some good news!” 

I can’t help it. I’m grinning. Both Teal’c and Carter have broken their respective states of self pity long enough to look in my direction, and have at least had the decency to look slightly hopeful. Daniel, on the other hand, now has the deepest frown I’ve ever seen. If he carries on like that, it’ll become permanent. 

Oh, he’s pointing his finger at me. That means he’s about to start talking at a million miles an hour and, most likely, get progressively louder.

“Jack, unless you can tell me exactly how to translate this text from P3X-445…” 

Here he goes.

“… explain to me why I can’t wear my own underwear under my uniform, and exactly why the military, and life in general, has to be filled with annoying abbreviations, then GO AWAY!”

Did I say he gets progressively louder? Whenever I act like this, Daniel says I’m in my ‘I’m feeling crappy, so you’re going to suffer too’ mood. Well, I think he’s doing a mighty fine impression right now.

Hang on a minute. Did he just say what I think he just said? 

“Abbreviations, Daniel?”

“Yes, Jack, abbreviations. I hate them, and they’re everywhere!” 

Oh yeah, now he’s doing his uncanny impression of a child having a hissy fit. Maybe I can cheer him up a bit.

“Daniel, you’re a linguist. You love languages. Abbreviations are a part of language. Besides, there aren’t that many.”

Um… okaaay, perhaps that wasn’t the best thing to have said. Carter and Teal’c have taken a step back, and Daniel’s face is filled with what I can only classify as incredulous disgust. Oh dear, he’s standing up.

“Aren't that many, Jack? Aren't that many?”

Oops! He’s started to pace. I can see his cogs turning. They need greasing, buddy, I can hear ‘em squeak. Uh oh, he’s not just pointing now, he’s waving his finger at me. This could be bad. Very bad. I think he’s gonna explode. CALL THE HAZMAT TEAM!

“OK, Jack.”

Oh God, here he goes. Get Teal’c to read my eulogy, and I want to be cremated.

“We work for the USAF, where everything’s on the QT. I’m a multiple PHD, and some would even say a VIP and as such, you’re my CO.

“We wake up at 0500 and have a breakfast of OJ and SOS. I’ll check by PDA, where our ETA, past NORAD to the SGC is 0700. We’ll flash our ID, change into our BDUs and begin work on SG-1 with Teal’c and your 2IC with major PMT.” 

“Hey!”

Phew, at least I have Carter on my side. 

"Who would look right at home on the cover of GQ."

Damn, he's good! Carter's gone all girly.

“We receive questionable INTEL from the bigwigs in Washington DC..."

Oh Jesus, he's not finished.

"...and then watch the MALP and the UAV before I perform endless research looking up URLs on my PC while Sam makes a computer model with CAD.

“We then get our ETD for our Special OP or S&R, and despite your little ACL problem, the SFs load us up with ZATs, P90s, MP-5s and AMMO.”

“Daniel..”

“We then arrive on P3X – yadda, yadda, yadda, for me to make good PR with the locals who all look like ET.”

Okay, Daniel, I get it. You can stop now, buddy. 

“We’ll then make camp…”

Oh Geez!

“…where we’ll have to endure yukky MRE’s that all taste of chicken.”

Yep, you see? I told ya. The decibels are going up. As well as his pitch actually. Only dogs will be able to hear him soon.

“I’ll then be trying to get you to see things from the locals' POV so we don’t become AWOL or MIA, or worse, KIA or DOA.

“We’ll then make a run for the gate. You’ll get a chance to use all your C4, and I’ll dial the DHD, send our IDC using a GDO and arrive back at HQ hopefully without any of us needing CPR, the ER or the ICU!”

“Danny.” Please, someone help! He’s now prodding me every time he utters one of his vexing abbreviations. How am I going to explain these bruises to Janet?

“We’re then shut in ISO-1 where our lovely CMO subjects us to a CT-scan, a PET-scan, a CAT-scan, an MRI, hooks us up to an IV, STAT, and we’re tested endlessly for STDs and any anomalies in our DNA.”

You know, that rock behind Daniel’s right ear has a really interesting shape. Looks kinda like a donut.

“Then we’ll get interrogated by the NID, the CIA and in the past, the FBI and the ATF, before we can escape from the mountain for some well earned R&R.”

I wonder if he’d notice if I took it and put it in my kitchen. My very own donut rock. Cool!

“We’ll speed past the MPs back to your house in your Ford F350 monster truck where you’ll force us to listen to REM on CD or your MP3.

“Once at yours, you’ll crucify perfectly good steaks on the BBQ…”

Mmmm, steak.

“…while you force us to watch MTV, VH-1, ESPN or CNN on the TV, or the Simpsons on VCR or DVD.”

Hey, Carter and Teal’c are nodding. Traitors! 

“After copious amounts of beer, you’ll take a shower, return to the sitting room in all your glory, wave your ‘assault weapon’ at us and demand to see my appendix scar.”

“Daniel!” Now, that’s a step too far. Sadly true, but still, he’s crossed the line. That only happened once. And how was I supposed to know that stuff from Chulak was strong enough to melt your insides, as well as every inhibition you’ve ever carefully nurtured. Great, now Carter’s giggling like a teenager. Take this kid!

“DJ, I'm sorry, but all these nasty abbreviations are SOP, Buddy. And I think you need a JD and coke, ASAP.”

Oh dear, his face just went a rather impressive shade of purple.

“Don’t even go there Jack, and FYI, sometimes you can be a real SOB.”

Wow, I think my eardrums have burst. No, no, his mouth isn't moving anymore. Is that really silence I hear? I think he might actually be done. He’s breathing kinda heavily, but at least he's returning to a more normal colour.

“Finished?”

“Uh, yeah, I think I am.”

“Feel better?”

“Actually… yes.”

“Well, campers, this whole conversation has been LOL, but I guess this probably isn’t the best time to tell you we’re leaving the USA on an AA 747, to go on a two week SG-1 vacation around the UK in an RV?”

”JACK!”

Uh oh! And, we’re running!

 

On to Part 2!!


	2. Part 2

  
Author's notes: As requested, here's part 2! Feedback would be greatly appreciated again, so I know I'm headed in the right direction! x  


* * *

“Jesus, Daniel, how long does it take?”

I swear, I’ve never known anyone take so long to pack for a vacation. Carter, Teal’c and I have been standing here, totally ready, by Daniel’s front door for the last half hour. Our flight leaves soon, and we are NOT going to miss it.

The bad news is that I can hear several colourful profanities emanating from the direction of Daniel’s bedroom. I’m either very brave or very stupid, but either way, I’m going in. 

What the hell? Daniel is literally sitting on top of his suitcase, legs dangling off the side of the bed. He looks like a kid that’s been lifted up onto a high sideboard, feet swinging, waiting to lick the cookie dough off the spoon. Except, instead of the happy kid look, Daniel’s expression is far more reminiscent of a constipated hyena.

“What are you doing?” 

“Trying to… get the… crappy… annoying… bastard thing shut.”

Did I mention the profanities?

Okay, as funny as this is, Daniel’s starting to make some pretty weird straining noises, and aside from the fact he’s in danger of giving himself a hernia, we really need to scram. Right, this definitely needs an experienced parent’s gentle touch.

“JACK!”

What? I only pushed him back off the suitcase. It’s not my fault he’s now flailing around on his back like an upside-down crab!

“What in the hell have you got in here, Daniel? We’re only going for two weeks!”

“Nothing.”

Yeah, right!

“No, really, I just thought I’d take an extra pair of shoes. You know, for if we go somewhere nice.”

Daniel is, without doubt, the worst liar I know. Every inch of his face screams ‘the truth is no where to be seen!’ 

Ah, I see the problem. Wow, what a shocker. Certainly didn’t see this coming.

“No books allowed, Danny Boy.”

“But…”

“Nope. None, Nada, Nilch.”

Holy crap, I’ve pulled out four veritable War and Peace sized hardbacks so far, and I can still see more heavy tomes buried amongst Daniel’s clothes. I can see him out of the corner of my eye. He’s trying his ‘but I need them to survive’ look. You wait, his bottom lip will start quivering soon. Not gonna work this time, buddy.

“Daniel, aside from the fact that the RV wouldn’t take the weight of this small library, Carter wasn’t allowed to bring her laptop, and Teal’c wasn’t allowed to bring his staff weapon.” 

And believe me, Carter gave me the patented ‘this is so unfair!’ look, and Teal’c scowled menacingly for a full hour. 

“I have to treat all you kids fairly, or you’ll fight.”

“We’re not children, Jack.”

And oh look! The suitcase now closes with surprising ease. Who’d have thought it?

“Could’ve fooled me, now MOVE IT!”

****

We made the flight, just barely. I managed to get us four seats all together, and after a bit of Daniel whining about not having a window seat, I fed him, watered him and he’s slept through the last four hours on my shoulder. Lucky bastard. I can’t sleep a wink, plus I really need to pee.

Carter and Teal’c are making the most of the in-flight entertainment. I think Teal’c’s beaten Carter at Space Invaders eight times in a row. I’ve just been watching Harry Potter and the… what was it? Oh, The Chamber of Secrets, on the tiny screen in front of me. Just getting myself accustomed to the British accent. Who said I can’t do research!

I’ve never been to England before. I don’t think Carter has either, and we know Teal’c’s never been outside the US, besides travelling across the galaxy, of course.

God, bladder’s really screaming now, but I don’t have the heart to wake up Daniel. Plus, it’s one of those ‘rock and a hard place’ scenarios. At least if he’s asleep, he’s quiet.

****

“Good evening, ladies and gentleman. We will be starting our approach to London Heathrow in about five minutes.”

Woo hoo! I lost all the feeling in my ass about eight hours ago, let alone the fact that my knees have been up by my ears for most of the journey. You’d think a colonel in the United States Air Force could at least get a little extra legroom.

“Local time is 5:30pm, and the temperature is a comfortable 64 degrees.”

The air force teaches you to handle dangerous explosives, which, for me, now includes the careful awakening of one volatile, grumpy, caffeine-deprived archaeologist. So about five minutes ago, I asked the particularly effeminate flight attendant if he would mind getting our slumbering genius a cup of coffee. Technically, drinks are not permitted this close to landing, but with a bit of harmless flirting and eye lash batting, plus a sneak peak at the apparent cuteness of Daniel asleep, I think said effeminate flight attendant would have acquiesced to my every whim. Hey, Daniel’s not the only one who can use his charm and good looks to his own advantage. 

I can already start to feel Daniel stirring as the aroma hits his sensitive, coffee detecting snout. Yep, there we go.

“Wakey, wakey, Daniel.”

“Agggh.”

Was that English?

“Coffee?”

“Mmm, thanks.”

Well, his hair’s sticking up on one side, and he’s got a stunning red pressure mark where his face has been pressed into my shoulder.

“So, was I comfortable?”

“No.”

No? He slept for nearly six hours straight. Not even the turbulence woke him up.

“Too bony.”

Well, thanks.

****

“Come on, T!” 

We’re at the RV hire place, having just finished signing the multitude of forms. I didn’t even have to fill in this much paperwork the last time Carter blew up her lab. And what’s with all the crazy names? It’s like speaking a foreign language. ‘Don’t lift the bonnet unless you really know what you’re doing,’ the guy says. Bonnet? I don’t wear a bonnet!

“Jack, a bonnet is a hood. A boot is a trunk. Windscreen, windshield. Indicator, turn signal. Exhaust, tail pipe. O’Neill, Jackass.”

Hey!

“Daniel, infuriating know-it-all.” 

And it begins: strange accents, weird names for things, and Daniel, the walking encyclopaedia.

We’re about ready to move out, but Teal’c’s in the restroom. As soon as we discovered that he really needed to go, all remaining members of SG-1 provided very clear, and quite loud, instructions to our alien friend that our lovely new RV toilet was off limits to all such Jaffa No.2s. Daniel went into great detail as to why these particular ablutions were not permitted. Don’t worry; we took away the paper and pencil before he began to illustrate his point.

I have to say, though, our RV is particularly cool! It’s kinda small, but it’s got all the creature comforts that one needs for two weeks of touring. I really can’t wait to drive this sucker!

Plus, and I know this is truly unbelievable, but I swear I’m the only adult here. Carter and Daniel have already found a way to pass the time by starting a game to see who can scare the crap out of the other the most times. It’s kind of odd really; you can be holding a perfectly normal conversation with Carter, and then Daniel will come hurtling out of nowhere, like Tarzan on speed, trying to make her jump. For someone who complained so much about coming on vacation, he certainly seems to be getting into the spirit.

Unfortunately, I’m seriously getting caught in the crossfire. 

“Geez, if Teal’c takes much longer, we’ll never make it to the campsite before dark, and we’ll be camping on the side of the damn highway.”

“Actually, Jack, you can’t camp on the side of the road here; it’s illegal. And it’s not called a highway. It’s called a motorway.”

Of course it is.

At least he and Carter are laughing, a rare but pleasant sight. 

“O’Neill, I am now ready.”

At last!

“Okay, kids. All aboard!!”

Jesus, talk about a stampede. I can safely say that I’ve never seen Daniel move so fast to one of my commands. Perhaps this vacation really was a good idea. 

****

Right then, I get in this side, the key goes there, my feet go there, the gear stick’s here, the parking break’s there, the lights and wiper controls are here, I can see out of both mirrors…

“Jack, are we leaving, or are you going to spend all night making out with the RV?”

Ha ha, very funny! 

“Just performing my flight check, Danny.”

Right, here we go!

“JACK!”

“SIR!”

“O’NEILL!”

Well, if I didn’t know my name, I sure do now. 

“For crying out loud, what?”

“You have to drive on the left!”

Oh yeah! Oops!

****

Great, now we’re stuck in a supermarket. It’s a necessary evil because we need supplies, but, unfortunately, Teal’c’s never been in a supermarket before. Do the words, ‘kid in a candy store’ mean anything to anyone? Carter, Daniel and I have finished our shopping and have been in the little café now for nearly an hour and a half. Teal’c’s still out there somewhere. 

Everything really does seem to be called something different here, and it’s getting confusing. True to form, Daniel, the dictionary, has already very kindly informed us that a shopping cart is not a cart; it’s a trolley. Mmm, I wonder if a swift kick in the shins is still a swift kick in the shins.

“O’NEILL!! O’NEILL!!”

Jesus Christ! Teal’c just came screaming out of an aisle and is currently racing towards us at the speed of sound. I’m waiting for the hoard of wild, weapon bearing locals to come flying round the corner after him. He looks really spooked, and that was close to a ‘we are in mortal peril’ type yell. There can’t be any danger here, surely. Or maybe the English are weirder than I thought.

“Jesus, Teal’c, I think the whole store heard you.”

“O’Neill, we must return to the SGC immediately!”

Geez, he looks really worried. 

“Why?”

“We must warn General Hammond, so he may contact this country’s leaders.”

“And again, why?”

“Observe.”

Oh my. I can’t help it, the laugh escaped before I could stop it. 

Yep, Carter and Daniel are having the same problem, holding their sides, tears streaming down their faces. We’re getting some pretty funny looks from people, but sorry T, this is just too funny.

“What is so amusing?”

Oh, if only I could answer. He’s holding a packet of cookies. Well, on closer inspection, they’re not actually cookies, per se. The packet says ‘Jaffa Cakes’.

“O’Neill, it is imperative that we inform General Hammond immediately that the Goa’uld have been present here.”

Oh dear, I think Daniel’s lost the ability to breathe.

“No, T, that doesn’t mean Jaffa, as in ‘the Jaffa’.”

Help me! I can’t get the rest out. Ah, Carter to the rescue. She’s snatched the box off him already.

“Teal’c, it means Jaffa as in the or…orange fruit. They’re orange fl… flavoured chocolate cake-like cookies.”

Nicely done, Carter! It’s hard to laugh and talk at the same time.

Oh dear, Teal’c’s slumped in the chair, looking totally dejected. Panic over T, no fighting scary Jaffa troops today.

Daniel’s beet red face is fading at last as the laughter dies down. Every now and then, he and Carter are hit with a fresh round of giggles each time they think of poor Teal’c’s panicked expression. 

“We about ready to leave, kids?”

“One moment, O’Neill.”

“Where are you going?”

“I wish to purchase this item as a gift for Master Bratac.”

 

****

You know what? Our campsite is rather nice. We’re staying just outside London, in the middle of the countryside, and we’re currently parked under a tree. There’s a little stream running along behind the RV, or in British English as Daniel informs me, the motor home. We’re only here for a few nights, but it’ll allow us to get our bearings.

It’s just starting to get dark, and Teal’c and I are sitting here chilling out while the kids are off exploring. They’ve been gone for a while, but I noticed that Daniel took his towel with him, so I guess his exploration will include the shower block.

There are no fish in the stream, but we’ve had a great BBQ, it’s peaceful, and I’m just starting to rela…..

“AAAGGHHHHHHHH!!”

What the hell? Oh, for crying out loud, Daniel! What the hell is he doing? He and Carter are sprinting back over here and, I kid you not, he’s running back over in just a towel. 

Teal’c is up and out of his chair, prepared to fight, before I even have a chance to convince my knees that they may need to take action.

“HELP!!”

What the…

“We’re being attacked by a hoard of Jaffa……... cakes!!!!”

Oh very funny! I hope they realise my delicate disposition can’t take all this excitement. They’re both rolling around in peels of laughter, and I notice Daniel is, at least, wearing boxers under his towel. Thank God. I’m not sure the little kids next door need that kind of trauma.

I honestly don’t think Teal’c’s eyebrow could rise any higher if he tried; he’s not impressed. Carter and Daniel, however, seem to think that makes it even funnier.

What did I tell you? For once, I really am the only adult here.

****

Well, Carter went out like a light as soon as her head hit the pillow. All that laughing has worn her out. Teal’c has taken his place on the floor to begin his kelnoreem. I managed to convince him that four candles would be enough, unless of course, his goal was to set the RV on fire.

Daniel, on the other hand, is acting like a kid on Christmas Eve. He’s been looking through a local guidebook that he picked up in the campsite shop. I’m half expecting him to start saying, ‘Can we go to every museum in England tomorrow, Jack? Can we, huh, can we?’ I’m guessing the four double espressos he had this evening may have something to do with it.

God, listen to me. I sound like an exhausted parent putting his kids to bed. But then, maybe that isn’t so far from the truth.

“Jack?”

Ugh, just as I was dropping off to sleep. At least he had the decency to whisper.

“Yes, Daniel.”

“Can we go into the city and visit Buckingham Palace tomorrow?”

Ah, to know him is to love him.

“Yes, Daniel, we can.”

 

On to part 3!


	3. Part 3

  
Author's notes: Jack takes the kids for a bit of sightseeing! Feedback would be greatly appreciated. Thanks! x  


* * *

“O’Neill, we are fully prepared.”

“Good. This isn’t going to be easy, T.”

“Indeed.”

“Carter, is it ready?”

“Yes Sir. I’m just pushing the button… now.”

SG-1 is a GREAT team. We are the flagship unit with years of combined experience, extreme Goa’uld exterminating capabilities and multiple geniuses. 

That’s why, as a team, we’ve become a well-oiled machine, and we can handle this difficult task with razor like precision. I’m sure of it.

“Teal’c, cue the music.”

A classic and melodious refrain from Swan Lake is now softly filling the room. Believe me, the calming influence helps everyone’s nerves.

Now, for stage two of this delicate operation. I just need to pull back the cover carefully, just a little. Gently does it.

Phew! So far, so good. We may just be able to pull this off without it blowing up in our faces.

Right, this next part takes every nuance of concentration and talent I have. 

“Teal’c, are you ready?”

“I am, O’Neill.”

“Carter, pass the coffee and the bagel.”

Okay, here we go, slowly, quietly, and gently.

“Daniel? Danny. Hey, Buddy, it’s time to get up now.”

I haven’t lost what’s left of my mind, I assure you. Over the last 3 years, we’ve tried every which way to get our youngest member back to the land of the conscious once the sun comes up. 

He’s pretty good off-world. He takes his responsibilities seriously, but at home, he’s not so good at the whole ‘stop working and start sleeping’ thing. That is until one of us drags him to his quarters, or back to his apartment, or to my spare bedroom. And then, once he’s asleep, that boy can put hibernating bears to shame. He even fell asleep standing up once. Now, that’s impressive!

The difficulty comes the following morning. Daniel has the amazing talent of mummifying himself in his blanket. All you can see is a Daniel shaped bedspread. You couldn’t fit a piece of paper between that blanket and his body. Woe betide you if you ever have to share a bed with him too, which I’ve had to do on a few occasions - New Year at Carter’s rings a bell, not that I remember much. Anyway, Daniel brings a whole new meaning to stealing the covers, especially when it’s cold outside. Thank God we have sleeping bags off-world, or I’d have permanent shrinkage!

Plus, as I said, we’ve tried everything. We tried the ‘slug him’ approach to wake him up quickly, the idea being to give him no chance whatsoever to roll over and carry on sleeping. Basically Teal’c whipped off the blanket really fast, and Carter sat on him. Unfortunately, this just resulted in Daniel being shocked awake rather savagely by freezing cold air and difficulty in breathing. Which, of course, left me to explain to Fraiser why I had Carter with a minor injury and Daniel nearly in tears. 

We tried the more subtle approach of moving loudly around him in the hopes he’d wake up naturally with all the noise. This included opening all the windows, getting the lawnmower going, Carter singing, loudly. Zip, nada, nothing! A herd of buffalo could come sweeping through Daniel’s bedroom and he wouldn’t stir.

In desperation, we also tried General Hammond’s patented ‘military’ approach, where I basically bashed two saucepan lids together and shouted, ‘MOVE IT SOLDIER!’. Unfortunately, I only had time to exclaim, ‘Holy mother of God!’ before a rather large and heavy bedside lamp, belonging to one Dr Daniel Jackson, came flying at me like a bat out of hell, accompanied by an aggressive, “You bastard!” from my, now very awake, friend.

It was actually Fraiser who suggested the more gentle, loving approach. We scoffed at first. I mean, we all love Daniel, but come on! I never even went to these lengths for my wife. But, by God, it works! At least with this way, there are no injuries, tears, pouts, or dreadfully hurt expressions that make me feel like a total jackass for the rest of the day.

So, when we're all together, we now perform this little ceremony of gently coaxing the kid awake with quiet voices, soft classical music, and the added incentive of coffee and a bagel. Teal’c says he prefers this approach too because it's more humane, but that's bull. He likes it because he gets to have a bagel as well. 

So, after an hour of careful preparation, and a sterling team effort, I stand here, coffee and bagel in hand. Just a few wafts under his nose, and… 3…2…1… ah, there we go. 

It lives!

“Time to rise and shine, Danny Boy.”

“Agggh.”

Ah, the dulcet tones of a waking archaeologist.

“Morning, sleepyhead!”

“Jck?”

“That would be me. Coffee? Bagel?”

“Mmm, t’anks.”

And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen! How to successfully rouse a hibernating archaeologist without injury or recrimination. This calls for a high five - to a job well done. He’s sitting up, inhaling his second cup of coffee already, munching happily on a bagel, and chatting animatedly with Carter. Woo hoo! SG-1 strikes again. What a team!

“Ready to hit London, Daniel?”

“Sure am.”

Sweet!

****

“For crying out loud, I can’t sit here either!”

“For God’s sake, Jack, just sit down.”

“Daniel, there is chewing gum on every seat!”

And believe me, I’m not exaggerating. It was Daniel’s wonderful suggestion that we catch the train into London, and leave the RV at the campsite. It made sense, in theory, but that was before we came to gum central. 

Teal’c now has an unnatural interest to try this new earth delicacy, but after watching him reach beneath his seat, we all loudly explained that a fresh packet would be far better. He only agreed if I promised to buy him a pack as soon as we got to the station. 

“Here, Jack, sit on this.”

A newspaper?

“Daniel, I’m not a dog.” Besides, I’ll get ink on my pants.

“Oh, sit where you like then. Stand, for all I care.”

Fine, you want me to sit where I like? How about here?

“Jack! What the hell are you doing?”

“Sitting on one of only three gum-free places on this train.”

“But, you weigh a ton, you oaf! You’ll break my legs.”

“Nonsense, you’ll be fine. It’s only, what, five stops between here and our station. Actually you’re kind of comfy. Have you put on weight?”

“Bastard.”

****

“I do not understand this ritual, Daniel Jackson.”

Teal’c! Jesus Christ alive, stop asking him questions. We’ll be here all day at this rate listening to our own private tour guide. Is there anything Daniel doesn’t know? We’ve been all around Her Royal Highness’ small, cozy, and by no means pretentious, London pad. We’ve even taken a five-mile hike round the gardens, and I’m not kidding, Teal’c’s on his two hundred and eleventh question. We lost Carter somewhere around the climbing roses. I think she may have passed out from sheer boredom. I’m pretty sure I heard her humming, ‘I wanna lay me down on a bed of roses’.

Me? Daniel has already chastised me for my musical contributions. He very colourfully let me know that singing, ‘what do you do when you want to have a poo in an English country garden’, was not something I should be shouting out in Her Majesty’s presence. I hastened to remind him that the old bat isn’t even here.

So, here we are, back at the main gates, and I’m hungry. I’ve spotted Carter, who’s currently getting ice cream for everyone. Good girl!

“Well, Teal’c, it’s not a ritual per se. It’s the changing of the guard. These guys are going off duty, and those guys are taking over.”

Geez, I’m so bored. Bored and hungry.

“I see. I still do not understand the function of the small black creature.”

What…?

“Does the creature serve a defensive function in battle? Is there a symbiotic relationship between creature and guard, Daniel Jackson?”

What the hell is he talking about? Ah, Daniel seems to have caught on because he’s currently giggling into his sleeve. Word of advice Daniel, when you start snorting like that, you need to take in more air.

“Not a cr...creature, Teal’c,… a…a hat. It’s made of bear skin.”

“I see.”

Oh yeah, there goes the eyebrow. 

“They do kind of look like Mounties don’t they?”

Great, now Carter’s keeping our fountain of knowledge flowing. I’m never going to get to eat at this rate. Don’t they realise I’m wasting away here. 

“Actually, Sam, that’s where the Mounties’ uniform originally came from.” 

“Daniel Jackson, they are indeed most disciplined.”

“Yeah, Teal’c. A bit like the Canadian guards, they’re not allowed to move at all while they’re on duty, unless it’s to directly perform their function to protect and guard the Queen and the palace.”

Really? Not allowed to move, you say. I think I doth hear a challenge. Disciplined? We’ll see about that! 

You know that I told Hammond we’d behave with respect and maturity? Bite me! Operation ‘make over-dressed guard move’, you have a ‘go’. Maybe if I just walk slowly past like this. Nothing to see here, just a man taking a walk. Then, right up close, I can… step on his toe! Oh yes, stealth is my middle name! 

But he didn’t budge. Damn! Mmm, maybe if I try this…

“The furry creature hat does not look particularly comfortable, Daniel Jackson.”

I'll just walk back past, get up close and personal and... make this face. You know, the one Daniel says makes me look like a baby trying to fill its diaper, and always causes him to laugh his ass off in a heap on the floor. Hah! Shit, this guy still didn’t move. This means war. Time to call in the big guns!

“No, I suppose it is a bit restrictive. But Teal’c, it can’t be any worse than your First Prime armour.”

“Indeed, the chafing is most disagreeable, Daniel Jackson.”

Right, this’ll make you move, sucker! They don’t call me ‘Special Ops O’Neill’ for nothing, you know. 

Ooh, there’s a restricted zone – if I just quietly sneak down here…

“Jack.”

“What?”

“That’s off limits, and you know it.”

Damn, foiled again. Even with every distraction in the world, Daniel doesn’t miss anything. 

Right, time for plan D of Operation ‘make over-dressed guard move’. This'll work. Without fail. I'll just stand here, turn my back to the guard, undo my fly, lower my pants, and bend ov...

“JACK!” 

“What?”

“Don't even think about it!”

Spoilsport.

“I was only trying to get him to move a bit, Daniel. A little flinch would have been enough.”

Mmm, that may have been close to a whine. But, I’m hungry, so screw it!

“By mooning the poor guy? Jack, how many people do you think have tried that before you? They get this everyday, but it’s his job. Leave him alone.” 

“Yeah, well, I bet a grenade down his pants will make him move.” 

“I'd really rather you didn't, Jack.”

“Come on guys, I’m booooored.”

“Well, that’s a shocker.”

Watch it, Space Monkey.

“Let’s make like hay, and bale. Liz’s crib isn’t so impressive. It’s just like my house. Let’s go and get some lunch.”

“Buckingham Palace has 775 rooms, and over 50,000 visitors a year, Jack.”

“Yeah, like I said, just like my house. Come on, let’s go and get some lunch.”

“You are right, Daniel Jackson. It is indeed most uncomfortable.”

Holy shit! Where the hell did Teal’c get that hat? 

“HEY, YOU! STOP!”

“O’Neill, it may be advantageous to…”

“Jack, RUN!”

Damn it all to hell! He got the guard to move! 

 

****


	4. Part 4

  
Author's notes: Here's part 4, as requested! Have fun!!  


* * *

I have a confession to make. 

I know, I’m a weasel, but I admit it, I chose England for our vacation, because they speak English. 

Daniel might be able to recite the Magna Carta in twenty-three different earth languages, and at least four off-world dialects, but the rest of us are stuck with English. Plus, for this vacation, I wanted to keep my pride intact and not rely on Daniel to translate each and every little thing.

Although, I have to say, I’m actually very proud of my language skills. I can say, ‘Jack, don’t you dare!’, ‘Jack, put that down!’, ‘Jack, don’t put that in your mouth!’, ‘Jack, pick that up!’, ‘Jack, don’t do that again!’, and, ‘Jack, how many times do I have to tell you?’, in Gaelic, from the wonderfully educational vocabulary of my Mom... but that’s about it. Oh, and I’m getting pretty fluent in Daniel-speak.

See, like that! Daniel is in full ‘I’m going to make you pay’ mode, and he’s incredibly good at it. You know that particular expression where he frowns a bit and pouts just a little, and then stares at you constantly until you can’t stand it any longer? He’s pulling that one right now. He’s pissed because we were apparently so embarrassing at Buckingham Palace, he’ll never be able to show his face there again. 

I have tried to look suitably apologetic, but Teal’c, on the other hand, is taking great joy in modelling his new pillaged furry hat for all to see. Apparently it’s warmer than his beanie, and infinitely taller. 

So, here we are in the restaurant of Daniel’s choosing. That was my punishment for the whole palace indiscretion; he got to choose the restaurant for dinner. I’m not holding out a great deal of hope considering the restaurant’s name is ‘The Slug and Lettuce’, but I’m so hungry I’ve decided to let it slide.

That was until we got a visitor. I wonder what this guy wants.

“Alright, Mate?”

“Uh, yeah, what can I do for you?”

“I’m really desperate for a fag. Was just wondering if you would mind giving me one?”

Uh… did he just say what I think he just said? Jeez, I thought the English were supposed to be reserved. I never knew they were this liberal! I can’t believe he’s just come straight up to our table and blurted it out, right here, in front of everyone. 

What the hell am I supposed to say? This guy’s just standing there, waiting. 

My highly trained team, who can stare down rampaging Goa-ulds without breaking a sweat, all seem to have turned into mute guppies. Although Teal’c’s eyebrow may have just risen to new heights, and I think I might have heard a ‘Holy Hannah’ come from Carter. Oh, and Daniel, weirdly, appears to be grinning inanely. 

Oh hell. 

“Urrrrm…”

Yeah, that was articulate, O’Neill. Round of applause for that gem of an answer. Try again.

“I… urrr… well… I…. You mean, right here?”

Oh, that was much better. NOT!

“Well, no, course not, mate. There’s a designated area over there.”

Designated? Oh crap! He’s pointing into the corner where a few guys are already gathered. This is so not going well.

“You just seem like you’ve got a bob or two, so I just thought you might have a decent packet, that’s all.”

“A… a packet?”

Yep, that came out as more of a squeak. I just can’t believe how casual this guy is. He’s acting like all he’s asking me for is a stick of gum. He’s just so laid-back and easy about all this. And I tell ya, I really don’t want to get in a situation where he’s laid back and hard, if you know what I mean?!

And what the hell is wrong with Daniel? He’s got both hands clamped over his mouth, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him quite that shade of red before. It looks like he’s about to explode. 

Okay O’Neill, this guy is still standing here. Just forget about what he’s asking for and give a polite answer. You just need to get a firm grip on the situation. No, that’s not what I meant! 

I need to chill out and get a hold of myself. God no, I didn’t mean that either! 

Just take a deep breath, Jack, and get it straight in your head. Oh, someone shoot me, please! May Day, I’m going down!

For heaven's sake! What is wrong with me? How hard can it be? 

Oh… forget it! 

“Look, thanks, but…. uh…. I’m not really… I don’t...”

“Look, Mate, if it’s too much trouble…”

“Jack.”

Finally, it looks like Daniel’s going to help me out. It’s about time. Daniel’s good at this stuff. He’ll be able to find just the right words.

“Jack, fag is just slang for a cigarette in England.”

Wha… WHAT?! A cigarette? That’s what this guy’s been asking for the whole time? 

Oh yeah, there we go. I’ve got Carter laughing so hard she can barely take in air, and Daniel’s looking at me with that smug, ‘I would have told you earlier, but that was just priceless’ expression. I am SO never gonna live this down, and Daniel knows it. He’s got blackmail material to last a lifetime.

You just wait Daniel. You’ll get yours, and you won’t even see me coming.

For crying out loud, will it never stop?!

 

****

Okay, I had to slice off a rather large chunk of my pride after the whole ‘fag’ incident, but I’m definitely keeping a safe hold on the rest of it. 

I refuse to ask Daniel for any more translations or clarifications. I’m older than he is, I’m a special ops trained Colonel in the United States Air Force, and I can handle this on my own.

Good, the waiter’s coming with the menus. Just as well, even the table was starting to look appetising.

“’Ere we are gents, oh… and lady. How are you beautiful?”

Hey, hands off our Major, Mister. 

“Take a butchers at the menu lads and I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Okay, I think I can roughly translate that sentence myself. Yes! Remaining pride still accounted for, Sir!

Now, what to eat? Tell me you have steak.

What the? How…? Why…?

Oh, Sweet Mother of God! That’s it. It’s all over for me. Perhaps I should just wave goodbye to my pride. Pack it up, send it away, never to return.

“What’s the matter, Jack?”

Yep, Daniel noticed my silent outburst. Although, I suppose throwing my menu at him may have had something to do with it.

Okay, salvage operation underway.

“Daniel.” 

Yeah, that’s it, O’Neill. Perhaps if you lean in and whisper, it won’t seem quite so bad. Yeah, right!

“Yes, Jack.” 

“We’re in England, right?”

“Yes, Jack.”

“We’re not in some weird, time warped, alternate reality, are we?”

“No, Jack.”

“So, why is the menu in a foreign language?”

Good, he looks suitably confused too. It’s not just me then.

“It’s not foreign, Jack.”

Or maybe it is just me.

“Daniel, they’re offering to serve me ‘Toad in the Hole’. I refuse to eat a toad, that’s just gross. I don’t care whose hole it’s in! What’s wrong with these people?”

Hey! Stop giggling you cheeky bastard! 

And what’s with the Jacket Potato too? Is it chilly or something? Why does it need a jacket? And I’m not even going to think about what Bangers and Mash is supposed to be. 

“Jack, Toad in the Hole is just sausages cooked in batter.”

“What, toad sausages?”

Yuk!

“No, traditionally just pork sausages.”

“So, why call it Toad in the Hole? I thought they spoke English here.”

“They do, Jack, and that’s an interesting question…”

Oh crap, perhaps I shouldn’t have asked. I see a lecture in my future. 

“No one really knows where the dish got its name, but the most likely theory is that in medieval times, meat was in short supply.”

Yep, I think I regret asking already. You know, over the last few years, I’ve felt a certain kinship towards Daniel’s parents and what they must have had to put up with when he was little. I bet Daniel was one of those ‘why’ kids. He had to have got all this stuff from somewhere. You know the type of kid, “He built a tomb, Daniel.” “But, why?” “Because he died.” “But, why?” “Because he was killed.” “But, why?” 

He’s still the same now! “We can’t stay, Daniel.” “But, why?” “Because we have a weapon bearing hoard of aliens bearing down on us promising to castrate us, boil us alive, and have us for Sunday brunch if we don’t leave right now.” “But, why?” Agghhhhhh!!

“Jack, are you listening to me?”

“Yes, of course. Don’t I always?”

“I’m not even going to answer that. Anyway, as meat was in short supply, residents in some impoverished villages took to eating frogs and toads.”

Eewww. 

“They would often supplement the protein with a baked mixture of powdered grains to protect the delicate meat from the heat of the fire. Children and the poorer members of the community would be given the remnants of the baked grain coating and be required to extract the ‘toad from the hole’.”

“Right, so if I order that, I wouldn’t be eating an actual toad or anything then?”

“No, Jack.”

Great! Okay, now I can order. Let’s eat!

****

Well, our waiter certainly has an interesting personality, and I think he definitely fancies Carter. He delivered her meal with a flourish, and whispered, “A juicy pie for a foxy lady.”

I mean, come on! Even I could do better than that. Carter seemed to like it though. She went all girly and started grinning.

When he delivered my dinner, I could have sworn he said, “A nice big hole for the old toad.”

We’ve let Daniel order our dessert for us, and he insisted it be a surprise. However, considering Daniel’s great love of chocolate, caramel, toffee, and anything sweet, naughty, and stomach expanding, I’m not too worried. Although, he is practically bouncing in his seat with excitement, muttering, “You just wait.” Now that has me slightly concerned.

Oh great, here comes the waiter.

“Strawberry tart. Who’s for a tart?”

Wow, he’s kinda loud. I think most of the people in here have turned to look. Daniel’s grinning and pointing at Teal’c, so I guess this is his.

“Ah, our stoic friend. Would you like to feast on a sweet little tart?”

“Indeed.”

“Excellent! And the poached pear?”

Daniel’s pointing at Carter.

“Ah, the ever beautiful…?”

“Sam.”

Yep, she’s giggling again.

“Ah, Sam. You have the most wonderful pear I’ve ever seen! Which means that you, Sir…”

Okay, now I’m slightly frightened. All eyes are focused in this direction, and Daniel’s in danger of spontaneously combusting.

“For you we reserve the greatest treasure of all. When I first heard the news, I was convinced it could not be true, but I now see, my good sir, that you do indeed have… a large Spotted Dick!”

And the crowd goes wild! 

I’m actually quite pleased my pride wasn’t here to see this. I don’t think it would ever recover. I am, however, slightly comforted by the fact that people are also laughing at Daniel, who did actually bounce so hard, he fell off his chair. Ha! Serves you right, Grass Hopper! 

What is Spotted Dick anyway? Oh, I see! Well, of course. I should have guessed. If a cigarette can be a 'fag,' then a log-shaped pudding-like dessert studded with currants is obviously Spotted Dick. Same language my ass!

Oh well, I suppose it’s only right that I take a bow to my adoring audience.

“Thank you everyone! We’ll be here ‘til Wednesday! Please place all tips in the big black furry hat!”

**** 

Well, we’re back at the RV now, and it’s getting pretty late. I have to say, my very first trip to London has been… an experience.

I’ve toured the sights, mooned a palace guard, eaten Toad in the Hole in the Slug and Lettuce, been propositioned by a burly Englishman, and I’ve even sampled a Spotted Dick. We managed to collect £100 in tips too! Although that may have been due to Teal’c circling the room, kindly ‘requesting’ that people find it in their hearts to open their purses. One guy was so nervous, he put his whole wallet in the hat. Although, Daniel, or should I say, Robin Hood, made us give the whole £100 to the waiter.

All in all, this has been the best day.

Carter and Teal’c are currently playing a game of chess, and Daniel is giddily pouring through more guidebooks. Me? I’m just relaxing, surveying my castle and keeping an eye on the kids. 

“Jack?”

“Yes, Daniel.”

“Can we tour across to Stonehenge tomorrow. It’s only about 3 hours away, and there’s a campsite nearby.”

Ah, the journey continues.

“Of course, Daniel.”

 

The End. Click on my series 'Look Out England' for the next part: Those Pesky Kids Again! Enjoy!


End file.
